Killing Kristy Thomas
by oneoneohohone
Summary: kristy worked hard to get where she is. too bad she stepped on so many people to get there. nothing to do with 'before we grow up!  wip
1. Chapter 1

a/n: this story has nothing to do with my silly little "before we grow up" universe. this is different.

and no, i'm not abandoning the other stories. :)

* * *

Sometimes, I wish the Baby-Sitters Club was my idea. 

It seems like Kristy got a lot of attention for the fact that this club, this business, was her great idea. We called her the Idea Machine, but really, most of her ideas fell through or just plain sucked. The BSC? That was her baby. That was her crowning achievement. She loved the club so much. Almost obsessively. Competition would be knocked out in days. Baby-sitting jobs all over Stoneybrook were monopolized. Nobody went to anyone else. Need a baby-sitter? You only have one choice! We're in your community, doing good deeds and solving crimes, marching in parades and running carnival booths. You can't_not_ know us. We get on TV, in the newspaper, on the radio. Fliers are plastered on every bulletin board. We meet famous people, we sit for famous kids, we get into movies, we get modeling jobs, we dance in the ballet. What's that new show at the gallery? Oh, it's just the Claudia Kishi collection. A genius artist, but always a baby-sitter first. We are everywhere. On the sports teams. On the school council. We're in your house, watching your kids. Watching out for your kids. Protecting them. Teaching them life lessons. Saving their lives.

The BSC was a big deal. And so simple. What the BSC became, however . . .

Well. You get it. At first it was fun. Then it became a job. Later still, a burden. Then you got to downright resent it. Resent the fact that Kristy Thomas, the Idea Machine, got all the glory. It wasn't _her_ room the club used. It wasn't _her_ phone the parents called us on. She didn't design the logo. She simply thought "It would be so much easier if Mom could call one number and reach several baby-sitters."

Like that hadn't been thought of before. Ever heard of a nanny agency, Kristy? Only, a nanny agency checks out the people who work for them. They make sure their employees are safe. Kristy Thomas simply relied on her gut instinct, which she believed was always right.

She misjudged me. Maybe back then I was okay, but these days, I wonder about myself. I wonder if I'm crazy. Because every time I see her walking down the hall, I feel like beating her face in. Kristy Thomas, Idea Machine, has no idea how many people hate her.

Maybe because so many love her.

Kristy is popular. She's a jock, she's a brain, she's cute, she's funny, she's kind. Kristy is everything every girl wants to be.

The exception, of course, being a few of her former friends.

Jokingly, privately, we call ourselves the Anti-Krist's. Catchy, huh? I thought of that one. See, I'm not so dumb. Mary Anne isn't so sensitive. Cokie Mason isn't such a bitch.

Well, not _always_ such a bitch.

Not that I don't like Cokie. I consider her one of my closest friends. Not my best, no. I swore off the "best friend" label after Stacey went to the Dark Side. We spent so much time making fun of Kristy, Miss Popular, that none of us saw it coming. Stacey, though . . . she always had to be cool. Hip. Sophisticated. I guess one day she looked at Cokie, Mary Anne, and me and realized we were no longer It.

Stacey always was a follower. With Laine, with me, with the club, with the supposed "bad girls" she hung out with in eighth grade. Stacey follows the Cool, and it always accepts her. It happened overnight. One day she was sitting at our lunch table in the corner, the next day she was loyally following Kristy, her blonde curls bouncing as she stayed ever-so-slightly behind her leader. There was no fight, no big confrontation, no drama. It just . . . was.

So what do the Anti-Krist's do? Generally, we ignore her. At lunchtime, though, Kristy and her crew sit a mere two tables away from us. We discussed moving once, but decided that Kristy might like that. So at lunchtime, when Kristy overpowers the room with her charm, we sit two tables away and plot her demise.

Not that we ever act on it - though I believe Cokie started the rumor about Kristy having an affair with her female gym teacher. Cokie denies it to the fullest, but I catch something of a sparkle in her eye when she does.

"The Baby Club break up?" Cokie had asked casually one day early Sophomore year, setting her tray on the table occupied by myself, Stacey, and a few random friends. I had nearly choked on my Ho-Ho.

Stacey looked at Cokie disgustedly. "What do you want?"

Cokie shrugged. "Company? Grace moved to Stamford over the summer. I'm lonely."

Stacey and I glanced at each other, conversing with our eyes. Is it a trick? Has she lost her mind? Cokie hates us. We hate her. It's always been this way. "Uh." Was all I could squeeze out.

"So what's with that?" Cokie asked, leaning closer as she gestured to a table to the right, crowded with students. Among them were Kristy, Abby, and Mary Anne.

I shrugged. "We don't all have to sit together every day, you know."

"Yes you do. You always do. Why aren't you now?"

"Cokie, mind your own business!" Stacey snapped, pushing her lunch away. That disgusted by her. She couldn't even eat.

Cokie first rolled her eyes, then locked them with mine. "What happened?" She asked casually.

"We're still friends. They just sit at a different table." I protested. That was the truth. Kristy and Abby had started sitting with their soccer friends, and Mary Anne was Kristy's best friend. Simple as that. There were no hard feelings. Kristy and I still sat together in English. We still talked. We were still friends.

"Mmm." Cokie said, digging into her salad. I couldn't tell if it was a reaction to me or her food. Frankly, I was surprised I cared.

And so it went. The next day, Cokie sat with us again. And the next day. Gradually, we began to talk more. Stacey would stay quiet, aside from the occasional snide remark in Cokie's direction. Crazily enough, I started to like her.

Cokie was the original Anti-Krist. I overlooked all that and remained Kristy's friend. That is, until the day I realized Kristy Thomas used her friends for nothing other than making herself look better.


	2. Chapter 2

The end of the BSC was not epic. It wasn't dramatic. It wasn't even exciting.

It was only the four of us, in the end. By the time we all graduated eighth grade, the BSC was more of an afterthought. With so many members dropping out, the fire, the stupid fights over boys . . . we baby-sat less and less. We kept things up half-heartedly up until about six weeks into freshman year, when all four of us mutually decided to let the club go. We were simply too busy, and our clientele was dropping fast. High school brought more homework, more clubs, less time for life outside. Kristy was sad to let the club go, but she said she wanted to encourage Karen to start it back up when she's eleven or twelve.

As for its members? Some of us are still the same, some of us are completely different. Mallory came back from Riverbend to attend high school, and she and Jessi are dorking up the freshman the best they can. Mal still has frizzy red hair and big glasses, but at least her braces are gone. She dresses better, but still a little awkwardly. Jessi is still tall ("tall" being nice for "gawky") and thin, still dancing. They both seem to have a Harry Potter book in hand at all times. Personally, I find that creepy. I'll still read a Nancy Drew now and then, but I don't advertise it.

Kristy is almost exactly the same. Still short, still petite, still a tomboy. She dresses with a little more flair than she used to. Very little. She wears her hair loose a lot more, when she's in class. In gym and on the field it's right back into the ponytail. She's still as bossy as ever, and she's still willing to mow anybody down for her own benefit.

Mary Anne changed a bit. She's gotten into more gothic stuff. Romantic gothic stuff. Vampires in love and such. I don't understand the attraction, personally. She's always reading Anne Rice novels, and her bedroom walls are covered in posters of gothic fairies and stuff. All of it is very pretty, and it suits Mary Anne. She is quiet, dark, and happy. She wears a lot of dark colors and goes heavy on the black eyeliner, but she still looks like herself. She never got back together with Logan. Thank God.

Stacey? Is still Stacey. Still blonde and permed (though a much more relaxed perm these days) and still in pursuit of sophistication. Someone should tell her she's packed on a few pounds. (Do I sound bitter? Stacey can go to hell for all I care.)

Abby is _exactly_ the same as in eighth grade. Same wild, curly hair, same bad jokes, same asthma attacks, still allergic to life. Abby remains neutral in the whole "popular" versus "Anti-Krist" war. I like Abby a lot. She's still a jock and she's still insane.

Dawn is still in California. Mary Anne still talks to her on the phone at least once a week. I still talk to her sometimes, too. Her latest kick is PETA, and she is constantly lecturing about animals - kept as pets, in zoos, in supermarkets . . . personally, I like cheeseburgers.

As for me? Well. I still suck at school, and at life in general. I still love junk food and art. I still get funny looks for the way I dress (for instance, yesterday I wore black slacks, a purple shirt button-up shirt with a large collar, a black mens tuxedo jacket I got at the thrift store, and a large purple felt hat that I had hot-glued some green feathers to. The pimp look. The teachers made me take the hat off in class.) Honestly the only things different in my life since eighth grade are the fact that I have fewer friends and that Janine is WAY off at Cal-Poly and I'm genuinely OK with that. I cut my hair off last year, all the way up to my shoulders. It's grown out again. My parents are promising me a car if I can manage a 3.0 GPA for at least one semester . . . I will not be getting a car this semester.

That's OK, though. Cokie drives a brand-new Escalade. She's spoiled. And she loves to give rides.

I couldn't really tell you if Cokie changed or not. I never really knew her, you know? I just didn't like her because . . . the BSC didn't like Cokie. That was that. Mary Anne disliked her because she was always chasing after Logan. Cokie managed to land Logan in ninth grade and could only tolerate him for three weeks. She and Mary Anne laugh about it now.

We're all Juniors at Stoneybrook High. Well, Mal and Jessi are Freshman, like I mentioned. Gratefully, it's easy to avoid Freshman, because anytime they see me they squeal and tell me how cool my random outfit is. Mary Anne says they always tell her how gorgeous she looks, and that they love the "dark arts." Cokie just tortures them. That's what Cokie does.

"Claud?"

Mary Anne's quiet, wispy voice drew me out of my memory lane haze. I blinked and realized that I'd been staring at Kristy. Mary Anne sat across from me, sweeping her dark hair over her shoulder. Her eyebrows knitted together. "You look . . . troubled."

"Just thinking about stuff." I replied nonchalantly. Mary Anne didn't like to talk about the old days much. It makes her sad. She likes to be happy. I leaned closer to her, picking up her necklace off her collarbone. "I _love_ this!" I exclaimed. It was a silver dagger with a small blue stone in the handle.

"It's good luck." She said, blushing slightly. "I ordered it out of a catalog. You don't think it's too . . . violent?" She was very specific about her gothic love. Nonviolent. Yeah, vampires killed, but the ones she liked killed out of love or necessity. Not for sport. I adore Mary Anne.

"No." I shook my head. "Not at all. It's very pretty."

"Thanks." She said with a grin, poking at her salad. "So, English? _Brave New World_? What do you think?"

"It looks interesting." I admitted. It's hard to get me to really read the books we're assigned in English. Mary Anne had, naturally, loved our last assignment, _Beowulf_, so she'd helped me with the work.

I frowned, and glanced Kristy's way again. Freshman year, We'd had English together. We always sat next to each other, always discussed our work. Toward the end of the year, we'd gotten a big assignment. We had to choose a partner, pick a book from a list, and give a huge presentation-style report on it. I had been excited because, at the time, I was running a 'D' average in English, and I knew with Kristy's 'A+' brain I we'd ace the assignment and I'd get up to a 'C', maybe even a 'B'. I even picked out a great book, _Fahrenheit 451_, which seemed like it was the type of book that could get you a good grade . . . a book about books, how could we lose?

And then Kristy Thomas had stood up, walked over to Emily Bernstein, and asked her to be her partner. Didn't say a word to me why.

I guess it was silly of me to just assume we'd be partners. I'd been kind of okay with it, but when I'd asked her about it on the phone later, she'd had the nerve to tell me this. "Claud, look. I know this is hard for you to understand, but . . . Emily is very good in English. This project is a big part of our grade. With Emily, I'll ace it."

"And with me?" I'd asked. A stupid question.

"Well . . . I mean, come on, Claudia. You know you're not very smart. What do you care what kind of grade you get?"

That was the first time Kristy Thomas ever made me cry.

Mary Anne was looking worried again. I smiled thinly at her, and went back to my lunch.

Kristy had made Mary Anne cry lots of times. Mary Anne just cries a lot. But there was one time, not very long ago, When she'd made Mary Anne sob. I shivered a little, looking at my Happy Mary Anne, who liked to gorget the past. She hated to talk about what Kristy had done to her.


	3. Chapter 3

Mary Anne Spier is a sensitive soul. She loves with all of her heart, and is so devoted to those she loves it's almost sad. She was devoted to Kristy, though now she admits that, toward the end, her feelings were starting to waver. "She's changed so much." Mary Anne had told me through tears in the girls bathroom one rainy day.

Yes, it rained the day Kristy and Mary Anne's friendship ended. How cliche. Yet appropriate. They had put fifteen years in - the day it ended was sad.

Mary Anne loves the rain. She finds it happy and romantic. Mary Anne sees happiness in everything. This is why I love her.

It was April 12th of this very year that it happened. It's almost Christmas now. We were all still sophomores, Mallory and Jessi were still tucked away at boarding school and SMS, school was almost over. Cokie was a table regular, Mary Anne was still at Kristy's. She didn't take sides in Kristy and I's dispute. I was okay with that. I like her. Stacey was still my friend, though she continued to despise Cokie. All any of us cared about was the fact that in four months, we would officially be upperclassmen. Slowly, we were turning sixteen and feeling more mature. Stacey and Cokie both had their driver's licenses. Things were . . . good.

I'd glanced over toward Kristy's table, so close to ours, like I always did, something inside me burning, wanting to _get_ her. What I saw startled me. Mary Anne Spier, running away, her face streaked in mascara. She wasn't wearing as much of the eyeliner back then, or she would have been a _huge_ mess. Without a word I was off like a shot, chasing her. Nobody else was. How could nobody go after her? This was _Mary Anne _for god's sake.

By the time she had reached the bathroom, I had caught up. She never was very athletic. I called her name and she looked at me as she pushed the door open. I followed her in wordlessly. She'd sat on the counter, put her face in her hands, and sobbed. I checked the stalls, then sat next to her.

"She's evil, Claud! She's a horrible, horrible person!"

I didn't have to ask who.

"I was just . . . Barbara was showing me an AFI video on her Ipod. She said she thought I might like them. And I did. We were talking about how the singer was really cute. And suddenly Kristy is breathing down my neck and she - and she-"

I had put my arm around her shoulder. "Breathe. You don't have to talk about it."

Mary Anne then took a deep, shuddering breath. She waited a few moments to compose herself a little. "No. People need to know how that woman is." She'd spat vehemently.

I'd pulled back a little in surprise. Mary Anne can get angry, but I've never seen her like this.

"She leans over me and says, 'Wow, Mary Anne. When did you turn into such a freak? You should go sit with Trevor and start cutting yourself.'"

Trevor Sandbourne. He sits alone, always scribbling in his notebook. His hair is long, he wears mascara, and always dresses in black. He's always been a sensitive poet type of guy, but he's taken it to another level. He always wears long sleeves, and rumors go around that he cuts himself. The Emo scene is not a large one at SHS, though Trevor is definitely a prime example of it. But he doesn't hurt anybody.

I sighed. "Don't listen to her, Mary Anne. Kristy's just-"

"It's not so much _what_she said," Mary Anne interrupted me, "It's that she said it in front of a huge crowd of people. Loudly. They all laughed, Claudia." Her chin quivered again. "She made them all laugh at me."

I hugged Mary Anne hard, and another girl came into the restroom. "Let's go." I told Mary Anne. "We're outta here. I'll buy you a Starbucks."

We left. Mary Anne said that was the first time she'd ever ditched class. We'd walked to Starbucks in the rain, and she told me All About Kristy over a peppermint mocha. How Kristy was getting more power hungry. How she fed off of other people's approval. She would make fun of people, they would laugh. They all loved her, for some reason. Mary Anne figured she must be crazy, and she loved Kristy, too.

"I knew in the back of my mind there was something wrong." She'd said, stirring her coffee absentmindedly. "I knew she'd changed, and that she was becoming a person I didn't like. I knew what she did to you. I just . . . "

"You never thought it would be you she turned on next." I replied.

"Yes. I wonder, does she even know what she's doing? Or is it just Kristy being Kristy?"

I glanced out the window, and was glad we got here when we did. The rain was really pounding down.

"She knows what she's doing." I replied softly, hypnotized by the rain.

Mary Anne sighed. "I suppose she does."

"I hate her." I had nearly whispered.


	4. Chapter 4

Hate.

It's a strong word. Not one to be taken lightly. Mary Anne says the only thing in the world she hates is hate itself. I say I hate Kristy Thomas. Cokie Mason hates everything and everyone.

It is utterly amazing that Mary Anne, Cokie and I are all friends. Not _best_ friends, really - Cokie and Mary Anne are too different to ever really love each other, but we are friends nonetheless. We are bound by our mutual dislike of Her, as well as some other things: we're all juniors, we share some classes, we like to talk silly about boys at lunch. Once in a while Cokie and Mary Anne will stare down Logan Bruno until he looks, just to mess with him. That's always good for a laugh. He turns beet red.

It was a Thursday morning, the last day of school before winter break. School would not be school today, it would only be a half-day, taken up greatly by an assembly. Drama was putting on a short play, the choir was singing, the band was playing . . . all to wish us happy holidays and send us on our way. Normally, I would allow Cokie to talk me into skipping assembly for breakfast, but Ashley Wyeth had a solo in the choir, and I had promised her I'd be there. Ashley and I aren't particularly close, but she doesn't have many friends, and leans on me for support when she has things like pieces being shown or a solo.

Only problem? Kristy was lead in the short play. Yeah, she's a sports nut, but she's all about softball, and in the off-season, she needs attention. Cokie, Mary Anne and I sat through the play - a modernized version of _A Christmas Carol_, how original - yawning. Then we watched the band play with slightly more interest. The choir came on stage and Ashley nailed her solo. Then the vice-principal came on stage to give out awards. Nothing important.

And then -

"Our final award for the day, before I send you all off until next year," Mr. Voss chuckled at his own lame joke, "is for all-around good citizenship. The person receiving this award is well known throughout the school and community for volunteer projects, fund raisers, and rally's."

Oh, no.

"She is a member of the Debate club, Young Republicans, Future Leaders of America, and Drama, as well as a star of SHS's championship softball–"

I tuned him out with a groan. Cokie covered her ears and shouted "La-la-la-la-la not listening!" While Mary Anne ducked in her seat and turned red. A few people in our section laughed. Mr. Voss continued.

"–Kristy Thomas!" he shouted, to thunderous applause, peppered with a few boos from Cokie and me. Kristy was smiling brightly as she accepted her plaque, but as she scanned the crowd, she met my eyes and her smile faltered. I gave her the finger. Her eyes turned dark for a moment, but as quickly as they did the smile came back, and she was looking elsewhere.

The crowd began to quiet, but Cokie continued to boo. Kristy stepped up to the mic and cleared her throat. "Thank you. Could we have a little decorum, please, Ms. Mason?"

Cokie choked on a boo, sputtering with laughter. "She thinks she's a teacher!" she giggled, slapping my arm.

"Thank you." Kristy said again. "I appreciate that the rest of you can be mature and civilized. Ms. Mason lets jealousy get the best of her."

Cokie immediately stopped laughing. Mary Anne's eyes widened. I'm sure mine did, too. I expected Cokie to shout back at Kristy.

But she didn't.

She just sat there.

Kristy gave a small, corny, boring speech. Everyone applauded her wildly. We were dismissed, and students ran from the auditorium as if their lives depended on it. Two weeks of freedom called.

Cokie sat in her seat.

Mary Anne and I sat with her.

After ten minutes, the room was nearly empty. Finally, Mary Anne put her hand on Cokie's arm. "Are you okay?" she asked gently, though obviously, Cokie was not.

Cokie sighed. Or maybe she hissed. I can't be sure. "No." She said, shaking a little. "I am not. I've had just about enough of Kristin Amanda Thomas."

"Haven't we all?" I muttered, shaking my head. "What a bitch."

"I'm going to kill her." Cokie said matter of factly. She looked at me, then Mary Anne. "And you're going to help me."


	5. Chapter 5

It was kind of amazing how much thought went into the next few seconds of my life.

Kill her? Kill her with what, kindness? Start a nasty rumor? Get good at softball and strike her out? Those were my first few thoughts. Cokie looked pissed, scared, and hurt, but not murderous. We don't kill people. Regular high school kids don't do that, that's the stuff you see...

Well, on the news.

Okay, so it happens. And by human standards, it happens a lot. People kill people. High school people get so jaded, so screwed up in the head, that they kill their peers. But killing Kristy? She couldn't mean it. Not literally. To kill Kristy _socially_, now that would make sense. To say, start a rumor about a lesbian affair with her gym teacher. But that hadn't worked. Not well. A few people had run with it, but most knew it was stupid. Kill her reputation? How, hack into the computers, change her grades? Graffitti the bathroom walls with her phone number? Suggest she was in favor of a socialist health care system?

I continued to look into those hurt, scared eyes and saw blood. Not physical, but the _need_ for it. "Cokie, what do you..." was all I could get before trailing off.

"I hate her." Cokie spoke low but passionately. "I hate her so much. She's always been so much _better_, so much _greater_, and she knows it. I'm done. This ends."

"Cokie, Kristy gets under my skin just as much, but this isn't _Heathers_, this is real life," Sweet, reasonable Mary Anne spoke up.

"She has to be stopped. Do you know what will happen if she's not? She'll go on to become some politician or CEO or something and dictate our _lives._ Wouldn't you have shot Hitler in high school if you'd had the chance?"

"Hitler? Jesus, Cokie, she's not-" I tried. I did.

"But she IS! Do you not see that? Have you not seen that since you were a child? She's like..." Cokie thought. "She's like Hilary Clinton. Only pure fucking _evil_."Cokie took her breath. "We can't let it happen. We can't let her rise to power. We have to stop her. It's our responsibility as Americans."

"Are you _insane?_" Mary Anne hissed. "If anyone hears you talking like this you'll be thrown in a cell."

"Okay. Okay. We don't have to kill her. But she has to be stopped. She has to _see._ They _all_ have to see."

I relaxed a little. Okay. Not physical violence. Cokie meant to humiliate her. To hurt her. But how?

"Whatever it is, it goes on YouTube." Mary Anne added.

I stared at her, surprised she would even be on board with something like this. But her eyes... in her eyes I glimpsed the girl in the bathroom that rainy day. The Mary Anne people rarely see. The vengeful, spiteful one.

Cokie looked surprised. "Really? _You_ are really going to help me do this?"

"Not only will I help, I'll hold the camera."

Cokie raised her eyebrows. "Mary Anne's evil twin Annmarie?"

I laughed so hard chocolate milk shot out my nose. Mary Anne, (or Annmarie) ducked out of the way just in time. Cokie laughed at both of us, and within second all three of us were rolling. I looked around the lunchroom and saw nearly everyone was staring at us. Including Her.

"Hey guys! We're being watched!" I giggled, gesturing to Kristy.

Cokie and Mary Anne turned to look at her, and she quickly looked away. That got us all going again.

This could be fun. Because, as little as it may be, the flash of red on Kristy's cheeks when we all laughed at her was satisfying.

We spent the rest of the period plotting. The basic idea, Cokie said, was to get her on video badmouthing everyone. It shouldn't be too hard to do, that's practically Kristy's trademark. I had some pictures and maybe a few videos from the old days we could use in the compilation.

"Not just students, teachers!" Mary Anne said gleefully. "Or the school! The _country!_ Can you imagine if the future president was on tape badmouthing the country?"

I shook my head. "High school kids don't care about that. We want people to really hate her."

"How about the special kids?" Cokie piped up.

"_No." _Mary Anne said right away.

Suddenly, it hit me. "Guys?" I said. "What about Stacey?"

Cokie stared at me. So did Mary Anne.

"The cheerleaders." Cokie said thoughtfully.

"The football team." Mary Anne added. "She's dating King."

"The Mathletes." I pointed out.

"And everybody else who thought Kristy only hung out with you and Stacey to be cool by association." Cokie said. "It's pretty brilliant. Jocks, nerds, cynics... that covers almost everyone."

"But how do we do it? She doesn't trust us." Mary Anne worried.

Cokie shook her head. "Baiting her should be easy enough. It'll have to be you, Claud. If you tell her Stacey did or said something, she may believe you."

Hmmm. I sat back in my chair, thinking. And... poof. Brilliance.

"I"ve got it." I said with a smile. "Sheila MacGregor."

And Mary Anne's eye lit up.


End file.
